April Fool's Day
by The Muse of Deduction
Summary: Sherlock decides to finally see John after three years. He decides to honor the day in his announcement. John decides to throw a punch. Based off of cover pic.
1. John

**A/N: I saw this- the cover picture- on Facebook and couldn't resist. I wanted to write an Easter fic but couldn't find time, so now we have an April Fools fic!**

**. . .**

Sherlock had been very patient. It had been three years since he had jumped from St. Bart's. It had been three years since he had became a disgrace(though, the recorded conversation on his phone had changed all that.) It had been three years since he had seen his friends.

Three years since he had last seen John.

He hadn't meant it to take this long. Sherlock spent every hour taking down Moriarty's web, spend endless hours searching, just so his friends could be safe. So he could come back.

And today was the day.

Today was the day that he could finally- for the lack of a better term- come back from the dead.

Sherlock had heard from his sources that John was making one last trip to 221B- to pick up all of his things apparently. He smirked, wondering what the blogger's reaction would be.

The smirk fell when he remembered how John was while visiting his grave. He _would_ be happy to see him, right?

The man shook his head, banishing the doubt from his head. Of course he would be happy! Sherlock was alive! They would get back to their usual routine, solve crimes, live in 221B, all the things they had done before.

Suddenly, the man picked up his pace slightly, planning to be there before John got there. A quick glance to his phone, well, the phone Mycroft had given him, told Sherlock that John was almost there, having gotten a text from his sources. He broke into a run, making it to the familiar door and leaning against it, waiting for the taxi to pull up.

Sherlock smirked slightly, watching John get out, seeing the shock on his face when he finally realized that it _was_ Sherlock that he was looking that. A smile appeared on the consulting detective's face for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Happy April Fool's day John. I'm not actually dead."

Sherlock watched as John tried to regain his voice, seeming to think that this was all to good to be true. The few seconds it took John to talk were the longest of Sherlock's life. What if John didn't want to see him? What if he hated him? His heart fell slightly. He was going to lose the one person that didn't see him as a freak. . .

". . .What?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock asked. What came next was something he did not expect.

John lunged at him. The taller man stumbled back as the doctor had punched him. Before he could recover from the shock, John had him in a headlock.

"Bastard, bastard, bastard. . .!" John muttered, slowly getting louder. Finally, after ten minutes of hitting- mostly on John's part, Sherlock had stopped dodging- John had calmed down slightly.

"How. . .why. . .Goddamn it Sherlock!"

Sherlock took a look at John. It looked as if the man was about to faint. He promptly turned around and opened the door to the flat, motioning for John to follow him as he walked up familiar steps to their flat.

Once he stepped inside, he noticed that all of his belongings were where he had left them three years ago. The only thing that had really changed was that all his experiments were gone. Sherlock turned to John while the soldier sat down and began to notice things. For one, John's limp had returned. He had lost quite a lot of weight and sleep in the past few years, but was starting to get better.

John cleared his throat, breaking Sherlock away from his thoughts. "How are you alive Sherlock? Why. . .three years Sherlock. Three. Years. Why now?" Sherlock sighed and began pacing before sitting down in his armchair, only to jump back up. Stormy blue-grey eyes bore into the doctor.

"I faked my suicide. I had a feeling that Moriarty would pull something. Molly helped of course, as well as Mycroft. As for why I chose now to make my reappearance, that is quite simple. I have finally destroyed the last of Moriarty's crime web. It was safe for me to return," Sherlock said, waiting for a response from his friend. John sighed.

"I should've known. But still, couldn't there have been a way-"

"To talk to you? To tell you I wasn't dead? I wished there was, but it would've put your life at risk. I couldn't let that happen." The two looked at each other in silence, unsure of what to say.

"I saw you visit my grave. The first time," The consulting detective finally said. John raised an eyebrow before looking away, slightly embarrassed. "Oh," was his reply. Sherlock chuckled. "I'm touched that even after all that, you still didn't give up on me." "How could I give up on you? You're my friend Sherlock," John said, looking at the man.

A small smile appeared on Sherlock's face. "Thank you," He said simply, still not very good at saying what he felt. He was thankful for John being so loyal, and relieved that John still wanted to be his friend. "So, do I still have a flatmate?" Sherlock asked. John grinned.

"Welcome home Sherlock."

With that, Sherlock finally relaxed and sat down. Things had a chance of returning to normal. There was still so much to take care of, so much to explain. But for now, he would enjoy some time with his best friend. The two talked and laughed for hours, swapping stories. A small, yet comfortable silence fell between them before John broke it.

"So, when will we tell the others?"

**. . .**

**What do you think?**


	2. Mrs Hudson

**A/N: So, even though this got only 1 review, it had gotten a lot of views and visitors (Almost 300 each!), so I decided to make this a few chapters longer. Enjoy, and feedback is always nice. Also, check out some of my other stories maybe?**

**. . .**

"_**When will we tell the others?"**_

**. . .**

Sherlock sat there for a moment, in his usual thinking pose, hands pressed together in mock prayer. It lasted only for a moment before he stood up. "Why not now? Get it all out of the way," The taller man said, already making his way to the door.

John was shocked and slightly jealous for a moment. It had been three years since he had seen his friend. He didn't really feel like sharing him at the moment. But when he thought of Mrs. Hudson, John stood up and immediately felt bad. The woman saw Sherlock as her son. The both of them really. How could he want to delay telling her the news that Sherlock was alive?

"John? Anytime now would be nice. It isn't nice to keep dear old Mrs. Hudson waiting," Sherlock said, a slight smirk on his face. John snapped out of his thoughts. "What? Oh, yeah. Come on, let's go," He said hurriedly, leading the way.

Soon John knocked on the door, which swung open almost immediately to reveal the elderly landlady. A smile appeared on her face. "Hello John, it's nice to see you again. Cup of tea?"

Mrs. Hudson saw that instead of the doctor replying, another voice could be heard. "That would be lovely Mrs. Hudson," A baritone voice said. The shock was visible on her face as tears formed in her eyes.

It had been so long since she had heard that voice.

"Sh-Sherlock?" She said hesitantly, as if daring herself not to hope.

John walked inside, only to be followed by a man with high cheekbones, curly black hair, and stormy blue-grey eyes, wearing his usual long black-grey coat. A smile flashed across his face.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson. You're looking well."

The woman finally let a smile appear on her face, tears spilling, overjoyed. "Oh Sherlock, it really is you!" Sherlock pulled the woman into a hug, which she gladly returned before looking the tall man over.

"Have you been eating properly? Who's been taking care of you? Sit, sit, I'll make some tea," She said, making sure they sat down before going to make some tea. Soon, the three sat at the table, a cup of tea in front of each.

"What have you been doing Sherlock? There were all sorts of rumors when you had jumped, people saying you were a fake and other horrible things. None of us believed a thing though, absolute rubbish."

Sherlock smiled slightly when she said that none of them had believed that he was a fake. No one would ever truly understand how much it meant to him. He felt a pang when she hesitated slightly while saying the word 'jumped.' He mentally shook his head.

There was nothing he could do to change what happened. He was here now, and he would make the best of it.

"I've been taking down Moriarty's web. To answer your earlier question, Mycroft has actually been taking care of me. Originally Molly was, but there was a chance that Moriarty's people or someone else could find out that I was alive, so she had contacted Mycroft," Sherlock explained.

The elderly woman nodded and pursed her lips slightly. "You've gotten a bit thin though Sherlock. I'll make supper, just this once, and you have to eat. After all, I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper dear," Mrs. Hudson said with a small smile. John and Sherlock exchanged smiles. It had been a long time since either one had heard those words.

"Of course Mrs. Hudson. I'll eat whatever you give me," Sherlock agreed for once. John chuckled. "And if he doesn't, I'll find a way to make him eat."

The three talked over tea, sharing what had been happening until Mrs. Hudson glanced at the time. "I've got to go boys, have to show a possible tenant the empty flat." "No problem at all Mrs. Hudson, we know how busy you can be," John said, standing up. Sherlock followed suit.

"After all, England would fall without you," Sherlock added. Mrs. Hudson smiled before the two men went back up to their flat as the elderly woman got to work once more, a small smile refusing to leave her face.

John said he had left the flat for good. Sherlock was 'dead.' Even though she didn't have any children, those two were sons to her. It had broken her heart when both had gone somewhere she couldn't check up on them.

Now John was back, and Sherlock was alive and well. Nothing could be better than that.

She had both of her boys back, alive and well. Now John wouldn't be depressed anymore. Now the two of them could go off and solve crimes. They would both be alright, because if she knew her boys- which she did- Sherlock missed John as much as John missed Sherlock.

Everything would be fine now.

Everything would be absolutely fine. Why?

Because her boys were back.

**. . .**

**It was short, I apologize. Anyways, if you'd like to see scenes from when Sherlock was in hiding, just tell me in a review. Bye!**


	3. Lestrade

**A/N: Hey everyone! Well, I'm back with another chapter. This will probably run on for a few more chapters at the most. Remember to review!**

**. . .**

Greg was sitting at his desk, glancing over a murder case that they were getting nowhere with. If only they could call Sherlock, he would've figured this out in five seconds flat and insult several officers' intelligence in the same span of time. Lestrade shook the thought from his head and closed the file, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

It had been three long years since the consulting detective had jumped from St. Barts. So much had happened since then.

He had been demoted from his position as Detective Inspector soon after the fall. He had worked hard after that to earn his position back, something he had finally managed to do recently. Greg was finally back to where he had been three years ago.

Lestrade would rather be at a lower rank if it meant that Holmes was alive once again.

He had been the first person to hear the recording on Sherlock's phone, and was touched to know that Sherlock had regarded him as a friend. He would've loved to hear that usually, just not in the way he did.

Lestrade straightened and took another look at the file. He wouldn't rest until they figured this out. It was the least he could do, right? He tugged down his sleeve to hide the nicotine patches on his arm as he noticed more people walking by his door.

The past three years had been difficult. He had solved two cases that had everyone else stumped; maybe spending time around Sherlock had made him pick up some of the deceased detective's tricks.

He could never be as brilliant as the man; no, no one ever could be as brilliant as him, not even Mycroft. He felt proud of himself at those moments, and felt that maybe, just maybe, Sherlock would've praised him for a job well done (finally.)

It was more than just that though. Lestrade had helped Mrs. Hudson and Molly with the whole John situation.

John had become depressed and spent more and more time hiding from the world. Greg had finally managed to convince him to move away from 221B, even helped him look for flats. His phone was always on, just in case he received a text or a call from the doctor.

The two met at least once a week. Greg always thought it was to make sure John was ok and to help him with the grief, but it worked for himself as well. It helped them both really, and they got to know each other so much more than before.

Lestrade couldn't help but blame himself for Sherlock jumping. What if he didn't listen to Sally and Anderson? What if he stayed on Sherlock's side? Didn't try to arrest him? The thoughts zoomed through his head before a sigh escaped his lips and reached for his coffee. There was no use in thinking about the past. Instead, he should be focusing on the matter at hand.

Lestrade looked over the facts once more, becoming increasingly annoyed with the murmur of voices outside that was steadily getting louder. Finally having enough of it, he was about to get up when his door flew open. He stood up, shocked at seeing who it was that caused the commotion.

There, in the doorway, stood none other than the dead detective, Sherlock Holmes.

"It's nice to see that you're well Lestrade. Now, I need a case immediately. What did you lot not manage to figure out without my help?"

Lestrade still stood there, frozen in place, mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something. He looked at John- who walked in behind the taller man- as if asking if he saw him too.

"What- how- bloody hell Holmes! Three damn years and you waltz in, assuming we have a case ready for you?" Lestrade finally said. He should have known- Sherlock would have never gone out like that. He would've pulled some grand trick.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow slightly. "So, Scotland Yard has been managing perfectly fine without me this entire time?"

Lestrade sighed, as if sounding exasperated and sat down, motioning for the two to do the same before tossing the file in front of the newly resurrected man. "Here you go. Fairly recent. A pretty gruesome murder. I think you'll like it."

He watched as crisp blue eyes scanned the file quickly before setting it down. "It's perfect Lestrade. No use in wasting time now with useless chatter with a murderer on the loose," Sherlock said, jumping out of his seat with excitement. It had been so long since he had a 'proper' case, he missed the thrill it gave him.

"You're probably right," Lestrade replied. "Of course I am," The taller man replied dismissively, heading towards the door, John standing up to follow him. "Meet us at Angelo's on Friday at seven for supper, will you?" John asked the DI, an impatient Sherlock waiting for him at the doorway. "Wouldn't miss it for the world John," He replied with a smile.

John nodded slightly and smiled back before turning to the consulting detective who made an irritated noise. They were about to leave before Lestrade spoke.

"It's good to have you back Sherlock."

Sherlock paused for a moment before turning around and giving the DI a slight smile.

"It's good to be back detective inspector."

And with that, Sherlock left in a blur, John at his heels. Lestrade smiled to himself, taking a sip of his coffee. Things were back to normal. But there would be one thing that needed to happen before everything fell back into its usual pattern.

Sally and Anderson would be apologizing to a certain consulting detective if they wanted to keep their jobs. He would make sure of it.

Which would be followed by an apology from Lestrade himself.

But there was still time for that. After all, there was a murderer on the loose.


	4. Apologize

**A/N: I'm back! Anyways, I decided to finally continue this. Leave reviews telling what you'd like to see! Also, check out my other Sherlock story, Once Upon a Memory, will you? I could use some reviews on that one. **

**. . .**

Sally Donavan was struck dumb for once. She simply stared at the two men in front of her. Lestrade had just dragged the other from the dead body on the crime scene to stand right in front of her.

The 'dead' Sherlock Holmes.

And Lestrade must've been out of his mind, because he wanted her to apologize.

He wanted _her_ to apologize to the _freak._

"What?" She finally said, looking between the two. "You want me to _what?_"

"I want you to apologize Donavan," Lestrade replied. He knew it was going to be like this, but he would get her to apologize one way or another.

"I'm not going to apologize for _anything,_" She replied, crossing her arms. After all, she had nothing to apologize about. She had done nothing wrong. Alright, it was wrong of her to make accusations without any solid proof, but it was nothing she should apologize about. She was just doing her job. It wasn't like she knew what would happen after that.

"If you want to stay on the case, you'll apologize. _Now,_" Lestrade said, slightly annoyed. He did expect this to happen though. Meanwhile, Sherlock just stood there, looking like he was enjoying this. Sally looked torn for a moment but sighed.

"I'm sorry Holmes," She mumbled before looking at her superior. "Can I work now?" After Lestrade nodded, she was gone in a heartbeat.

"That could've gone better," Greg said once Donavan had escaped. Sherlock chuckled slightly.

"I doubt it could've," The detective replied. "Now, is there anything else?"

"Actually, yes. Anderso-"

"Oh you've got to be kidding me."

"Just Anderson and then you can leave," Lestrade finished. The detective didn't look happy about it, but nodded.

Let's just say that when the two reached Anderson – who hadn't noticed the detective before – screamed bloody murder, saying that the man came back to haunt him, apologized, then proceeded to faint.

"That could've gone _much_-"

"Shut up Sherlock."

**. . .**

**So, what did you think? Sorry that it's so short. Anyways, review!**


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